A Crooked Path | Page 4

or later. So we will be patient."
"Ah! but, Katie, the landlord and the butcher will not wait, and, my
child, I have only about five pounds. I made too sure of success for I
did so well last year. Then Madame de Corset will soon be sending in
her bill for that famous dress of Ada's, and she will want the money she
lent me."
"Then Madame de Corset must wait," said Katherine, firmly. "Ada is
really your debtor. Where could she live at so small a cost as with you?
Where could she be so free to run about without a thought for the
children? What has become of her? Couldn't she stay with Cecil on his
birthday?"
"She is gone to luncheon with the Burnetts. It is as well to keep up with
them; their influence might be useful to the boys hereafter; but I do
wish I could pay her."
"I wish you could, for it would make you happier; but she really owes
you ten pounds and more."

"What shall I do about that novel? If I could get two hundred--even one
hundred--pounds for it, I should do well. I began to hope I might make
both ends meet with my pen. Oh, Katie dear, I am ashamed of myself,
but for the first time in my life I feel beaten. I feel as if I could not
come up to time again. It has been such a long, weary battle!" She
pressed her handkerchief to her eyes.
"I wish I could give you rest, darling mother!" said Katherine, taking
her hand and fondling it. "I fear I have been too useless--too
thoughtless."
"You have done all you could, my child; one cannot expect much from
nineteen. But I wish--I wish I could think of any means of deliverance
from my present difficulty. A small sum would suffice. Where to find it
is the question. I counted too much on those unlucky manuscripts, and
now I do not know where to turn; I see a vista of debt." A sudden fit of
coughing interrupted her.
"You have taken cold, mother," cried Katherine. "I heard you coughing
this morning. I was sure you would suffer for sitting near the open
window in the study last night."
"It was so hot!" murmured Mrs. Liddell, lying back exhausted.
"Yes, but it was also frightfully damp. Tell me, mother, is there
anything we can sell?--anything--"
Mrs. Liddell interrupted her. "Nothing, dear. The few jewels I had
preserved went when I was trying to furnish this house. I fancied we
should do well in a house of our own, and I was so anxious to make a
home for my poor boy's widow!"
"When do you expect any more money?"
"Not for nearly two months, and then another quarter's rent will be
due."
"Mother," said Katherine, after a moment's silence, "would not my

father's brother, of whom I heard you speak, help you? It is dreadful to
ask, but he is so near a kinsman, and childless."
"It is useless to think of it. He and your father quarrelled about money,
and he is implacable. His only child, a son, opposed him, and he drove
him away. Poor fellow! he was killed in Australia."
"Why have hard-hearted wretches heaps of money, while kind,
generous souls like you never have a farthing?"
"That is a mystery of long standing," said Mrs. Liddell, with a faint
smile. "Katie, I cannot think or talk any more. I will go and lie down in
my own room. There neither Ada nor the children can disturb me. Oh,
my darling, how can I ever die in peace if I leave you to do battle with
the bitter, bitter world unprovided for?" Her voice quivered, and the
hand she laid on her daughter's trembled.
"Do not fear for me, mother. I am tougher and more selfish than you
are. It is time I worked for you. How feverish you are! Come up to your
own room. You will see things differently when you have had a little
sleep. If the worst comes, I will tell Ada that we must give up the house
and go back to lodgings. We never had difficulties before we came
here."
"No, for we never had debts. Now I have, and I have this house for
nearly three years longer. It is not so easy to shake off engagements as
you would a cloak that had grown too heavy."
So saying, Mrs. Liddell rose and ascended to the room she shared with
her daughter, whom she allowed to take off her dress and put on her
wrapper, to arrange her pillows, to bathe her brow in eau-de-cologne
and water, and soothe her with those loving touches, those tender cares,
that the heart alone